You're currently viewing our forum as a guest. This means you are limited to certain areas of the board and there are some features you can't use. If you join our community, you'll be able to access member-only sections, and use many member-only features such as customizing your profile, sending personal messages, and voting in polls. Registration is simple, fast, and completely free.

Toby nodded, hearing everything said behind him. Holy fuck, he's got 'nades? If he turns on me...shit, I'm more fucked than a Playmate....

[I can't believe I made that comparison -.-]

He looked at Chance. His tone-change was surprising, but he ignored it. "Yeah, hell. If you'll depend on me, I'll depend on you. 'Long as we don't have anyone just tagging along." He stopped and turned. Waiting for Sid to finish, he too shook Chance's hand. "So, it's official, we're in this together now." He grinned, and turned. He began to walk again, but looked back to Chance and Sid for a second.

And, just as he opened his mouth to speak more, he tripped over something. He would have seen it, if he hadn't looked away. Flailing his arms about, he did a header into the dirt. Nice. Take headache from hell, add slamming your head into the dirt, and you get a shitty mood for Toby.

"What the FUCK was that?" He didn't yell, but didn't whisper, either. Just above a normal speaking voice...and he rolled around onto his back. Part of his right sleeve went into the water, and he looked at the bag at his feet.It was rather large, and impossible to see through. Completely opaque. AND, it had Toby Valerik stenciled in big, slanted letters on the side.

"...oh. There's my weapon." He looked towards where he'd awoken...and saw the depression in the grass and dirt from his body. He looked a bit down, and found another depression. His bag.

"I think they threw my bag at me while I was sleeping, but the weapon came out...HA, bastards. Messy bastards." He got to his knees, a bit shaky from the pain in his head. He picked the bag up, and held it in front of him, facing the other two.

He placed his right hand under it, feeling around the bag. "I'll try to see what's in it before I open it; no surprises for you guys, right?" He was worried they'd freak, should he have a firearm."Fuck, it's heavy..." His probing hand began to outline the weapon.He found what seemed like a pistol grip...a PISTOL GRIP? "Holy shit, I think it's a gun!" He chuckled. "My luck improved, I think..." He merely said this because he was worred about getting some dumbass melee weapon that wouldn't do shit in a fight.

His finger traced out what seemed to be a barrel. God, it was heavy for a pistol.

"Well, I think I've got a pistol. No surprises when I take it out, right?" He made sure the 'barrel' was pointed way to the side, so no one got worried about having a weapon aimed at them. He opened the ziplock bag, and put his hand in. He found the barrel, hefting the overly heavy 'pistol.'

And the bag dropped. On his face was an expression that mixed with horror and shock. "A fucking...power drill...who the fuck gives you a drill...?" The drill itself had a rather nasty looking bit attached, and a large pack at the bottom of the handle. Cordless. And painful.

"...no fucking way. A drill. A knife, some 'nades, and a drill. How's that for a rag-tag team?" He was chuckling. Not funny, haha chuckle, but ...oh my god, is this for-real chuckle.

"...SHIT." He held the drill loosely in his right hand, down at his side like a pistol. But a heavy one.It was currently in the off position, so he couldn't use it. Yet. He shook his head, standing slowly. He'd always been one to take things and roll with them, but ...THIS. First, SOTF in general. Then, making friends (he hoped they would prove to earn the term better than the bastards he'd called 'friends' at Barry Coleson) so quickly in this ...situation. Now, a fucking power drill was his weapon. Not incredibly squeemish, he figured he could take having to use the drill on someone and not puke. But, still. The whole idea that his entire life could very likely hang on his ability to drill someone to death in the near future...fuck, that was blowing his mind. So, he put it off for now, and continued walking. This time, he was watching the ground more.-.-

"Indeed," Chance said, now returning back to his cheerful, 'no-worries attitude', smiling brightly at them. "I don't know exactly how far we'll get...but gotta at least try, right? Take that shot..." He stretched his arms out, "I must say, I'm pretty lucky, having bumped into you two instead of some bloody psych-....oy, you okay?"

He looked on in mild concern as Toby suddenly fell over, face first into the dirt, before recovering. He noted with interest the bag that seemed to carry the weapon assigned to Toby...and when it was revealed what the weapon was....

Chance burst out laughing, ducking his head down slightly, hands against his knees.

He quickly recovered himself, "Sorry...I know I mustn't...." Suppressed snickers emitted from his mouth, as he brushed away tears of mirth from his eyes. "Alrighty...I have to say...that was NOT what I expected it to be...sorry..." He seemed probably embarrassed at his outburst of laughter, despite having quite a struggle trying to suppress it.

He rubbed the back of his head, finally composing himself. "Not saying that it isn't useful. Speaking of which, we should really find some way to get these-" He tapped the collar about his neck. "-off of us. Just have to get creative is all." He struggled to stifle another snicker as he continued walking.

He shook his head incredulously. "Someone out there has a sick sense of humour..."

As Sidney watched Chance finger the collar around his neck, it was for the first time that he put his hands to his neck and felt the metallic device around his throat.

Well, that's certainly an interesting development...

"These collars...what, what're they for?"

Sidney hadn't read his 'instruction manual', or even been on the plane with the rest. In fact, it was reality that hockey's newest star had in fact been kidnapped to play in SOTF, instead of the NHL.

As he asked the question, he couldn't help thinking back to the last thing he remembered...

~~~

As he slung his equipment bag over his shoulder, Sidney Crosby again couldn't believe the dream that he was living. Here he was, standing in the locker room of an actual, honest-to-god NHL hockey team, not as a visitor, not in some special event, but because the locker he was currenly standing in front of had HIS own name written on the plaque in front of it. 'CROSBY'. Unbelievable. For most of his life, he had worked hard in his hockey, trying not only to be good, but to be GREAT. And great he had been; so great, in fact, that it had been a televised event to see who would get the priviledge to draft HIM first overall in the NHL Entry Draft of 2005. They had brought camera crews into his house, of all places, to get his reaction on the live draft that was going in Toronto. There were so many teams he wouldn't have minded going to - hell, did it even matter? He knew that many people believed him to prefer going to the Montreal Canadiens, his favourite team in his youth, but to Sidney, it didn't really matter. To make the NHL was his dream, and the fact that he was so close to accomplishing it was an absolutely amazing feeling. And the feeling of excitement that he had felt as the draft whittled down to two teams; the Pittsburgh Penguins and the Mighty Ducks of Anaheim...it was just a feeling that Sidney himself could hardly describe.

And of course, when it was announced that Pittsburgh had won the draft lottery, Sidney again felt as though it were a dream come true. He had grown up idolizing Mario Lemieux, and now he would be playing WITH him.

And of course, as things were today, Sidney never would have expected that eventually, he would actually be LIVING with the man himself. Mario had been absolutely amazing in helping ease the transition from living with his parents in Rimouski, to living in a strange American city with no friends or family in sight. Mario had taken him in, invited him to live in his house for the year, so that he could adjust. He WAS, after all, only seventeen years old. And adjusting, he was. It was still a family atmosphere in the Lemeiux household, and for that, Sidney was thankful. He enjoyed playing around with Mario's two children, and helping him and his wife with the household chores. It was the least he could do.

So as Sidney slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the dressing room; waving goodbye to Zigmund Palffy and Sergei Gonchar, who were both reading some magazine in the corner of the room, he knew that his dreams had been accomplished, he was finally here. He was still a little awestruck by the fact that he had just been embroiled in a conversation about noodles with John LeClair, and had been talking music with Mark Recchi. Those guys were NHL superstars, and they were as friendly as could be. They treated him like any other member of the team, not like the starstruck kid who, once in awhile, they caught gaping, still trying to believe his eyes.

As he wandered down the hall towards the exit, Sidney wondered what the coming weeks would bring. He was trying to relax and the points were actually coming naturally to him; he had batted in his first NHL goal a few days earlier and already had a couple points. Who knew what challenges he'd face, who knew what kind of stuff would happen to him? The NHL was an interesting place nowadays, and every game was exciting as it was intense. As he was about to step outside, he passed by veteran NHL defenseman Ric Jackman, who, when he saw Sidney coming, closed his cell phone and motioned to the boy to come over.

"Hey, Sid...there're some guys outside who say they're with the FBI or something, say they need to talk t'you or whatever."

Sidney blinked in surprise. FBI...? Why would they want to speak to him?

"FBI? Really? Did I...do something?"

Ric laughed and shrugged.

"I dunno, kid, you tell me. Asked me if I knew you, said they wanted to ask you a few questions about something. Beats me, man. You waiting around for Mario, or you need a lift back to his place?"

Sidney nodded at the older man's question.

"Yeah, he's in some owner's meeting or whatever, shouldn't be too long. He just texted me, said he should be down in five or ten minutes, so I'll just wait around. Thanks anyways, though, Ric."

Ric smiled, and clapped Sidney on the shoulder.

"Not a problem, buddy. Take care of yourself, eh? Nice playing out there, today, too. You've got a hell of a talent; you make sure you always make use of it. Anyways, I've got to go, I'm meeting up with some former teammates...Leafs are in town, you know how it is."

Sidney smiled, and nodded. Waving goodbye to Ric as he walked the opposite was from him down the tunnel, his smile vanished.

FBI? Why the hell are the FBI looking for me? I've never done anything even remotely illegal in my life...what's going on...?

As he stepped outside, he was surprised to see a few men in suits standing around, seemingly waiting outside of the door. For a minute, Sidney put on his media face, but then realized that these were the afformentioned FBI agents. One of them looked at his face, and as Sidney stepped away from the door and into the parking lot, his usual waiting area, one of them called out to him.

"Sidney Crosby?"

Sidney turned around and dropped his hockey bag.

"Yeah...can I help you gentlemen?"

A sudden sharp pain echoed against the back of his head, and as Sidney lost consciousness, a frightening voice cackled and stated: "More than you know..."

~~~

Shaking his head, Sidney walked along the path. So he'd been kidnapped. That much was evident. But what was he doing here? He was still so confused. Perhaps his allies could shed light on the situation.

"So, I've got to ask...did you guys get kidnapped, too? Like...the last thing I remember, I was walking out of work, and these guys just...I guess attacked me..."

He rubbed the back of his head.

"I don't really know what's going on, aside from the fact that people are killing each other, and I don't know why..."

Chance nodded in affirmation, his expression turning slightly grim. "What happened to you would make sense, I would imagine just about every kid playing this game was forced onto this island one way or another." He sighed and took a deep breath, looking calm, but much more grave now.

"I'm thinking that we'll be bumping into more folks from Barry Coleson," he told the two of them. To Sid, he explained, "Ours was a mass kidnapping...the ninth and tenth grades were all on the same plane, and they hijacked it. They killed the teachers...gave us a briefing...put us to sleep and, well...you know the rest."

By this time, his voice had changed, different from its warmth and cheeriness only a few moments before.

He looked towards Sid with an expression that was unreadable.

"As for the collars...they're just about the main thing keeping us from getting off this island," he said, in a voice that was almost bitter. "Other than monitering life signs, and who knows what else...they're also here to keep us from causing trouble. Turns out that those folks have installed a bomb in these things-All they have to do is press a button and-" He made a snapping sound with his tongue. "Bomb goes off, you get the jist...."

He stretched his arms out behind his head, despite the context of all he had just explained. "So you didn't read the manual? Good thing you didn't run into a Danger Zone while you were wandering about...collar would have gone off if you had done so. I imagine that it's for flushing out the hideaways, some sort of pacing strategy used by the terrorists." He muttered to himself, "Scumbags that they are..."

Chance shook his head, letting out a slight sigh. "Convenient, huh? As for the reason why...my guess can't be any better than yours. Getting us kids involved in a game like this...like I said, someone out there must have a really sick sense of humour, don'tcha think?"

"Chance, I swear..." He laughed. Laughing at himself was always a specialty of his; same with Drew, back in Michigan...

"And, remember, it said there's cameras around here somewhere." He laughed one of his typical laughs.See, Tobs had a few normal laughs. A silent, oh-my-god-so-fucking-funny laugh, that amounted to his mouth opening and he LOOKED like he was laughing, but no sound. A louder, full my-god-what-did-you-say?! laugh that was far more normal than the other......and a sarcastic, annoyed laugh. The one he was giving now was dripping with annoyance.He brought his left hand up, waving around a certain finger. "Hope one of their fucking cameras catch this!" He growled. The mere thought pissed him off quite a bit. Just thinking of such a sadistic thing had erased his entire former happiness or carefree personality.

"You don't joke about things like that. There's gotta be one around here somewhere, and I hope to God it gets THIS." His hand came down to his side again, and he turned to the other two.

"Well, yeah...shit, of all the ways to die. Trapped like a rat, on some Godforsaken island...and the coward doesn't even have the balls to come out and do it himself, so he pushes a button..."

And, all at once, he had an idea. GASP!Tobs shoved the drill into his pants' belt loop, and shot his hand into a pocket. He fished around for a bit, and yanked out his phone. He remembered a certain application he'd bought (against parental wishes, too). It was a weather program, and would pinpoint his location through GPS satellites. From there, it would retrieve doppler images of the area, or just normal satellite imagery. Along with that, it gave GPS coordinates accurate to a few hundred feet. All he needed were the coordinates. From there, he was sure he could call ...someone.Unless, of course, they were in the middle of the Pacific, and he had no signal. Fuck, shoulda brought a satphone!

He flipped open the phone, checking the battery. "Figure I've got a few minutes, maybe half an hour of talk time...but, if I try using the program, I'll drain the battery." He pressed a few buttons (rather hard, too; good he didn't break the damn thing) and arrived at the menu. With a single press, he activated the program.

"Oh, fuck, that's not good..." His dad had told him to turn off a certain feature of the phone that enabled GPS tracking at all times, making the program he was going to use much more effecient. Apparently, his dad had turned the fucking feature off. Battery life could be as much as an hour or so of talk time now, but the program would take far too long (and far too much battery life) to find him, seeing as he was in the middle of fucking nowhere.After waiting a minute (longest it had ever taken), he slapped the phone closed, slipping it into a pocket. Not only did he have no signal off the island, but the GPS seemed blocked.

"Well, fuck, that's my luck." He shook his head, and looked at the other two. He shrugged, before looking at the colors. Moving from one subject to another relatively quickly, he poked at his own."How much you wanna bet there's a microphone in here, too? Hey, Danya. If you're hearing this, FUCK YOU." He said this while looking off in the distance, because he knew looking anywhere wouldn't make a difference. For all he knew, there was a camera right in front of him.

He looked at Chance. For a senior, Tobs could make some very ...adult choices in his thoughts, but never expressed them as such."Terrorists being scumbags...no, that doesn't cut it. Terrorists are fucking ball-lacking dumbshits who belong in prison as some murder's bitch."...see what I mean?And this was said in a manner that ensured a microphone picking it up, if it was in the collar. XD

Chance watched curiously as Tobs fiddled with the phone. All along he had doubted that such a thing would work, but still having hope, he watched patiently as Tobs struggled with the thing, waiting with him with the hope that there would be some kind of signal.

His disappointment was slight as Tobs finally snapped the thing shut, though he seemed more relieved than not, scratching the back of his neck a bit.

"Nice idea," he commented. "...But likely the terrorists would have thought of that already. And also, don't forget..." He tapped a finger against the collar that curved against his thin neck. "This is pretty much equilivent to a hostage situation...all we need to do is to cause trouble, or for the government to watch wind of where we are, everything ends right there. Like I said, these...dumbshits, as you call 'em, put it better than I did right there, thought of a lot."

He moved on, looking rather thoughtful now. "But there's a chance...heh, there's a chance they haven't thought of everything. And hopefully we'll be able to think of it before they do, right? There is no plan without its flaws or loopholes. Hopefully we'll find one to slip through."

"Heh, yeah...they may be fucking idiots, but they're prepared if they want to pull off something like this." He chuckled. "Hate it when that happens. And, yeah...shit, you're right, we're hostages! That's all we are!"One of the things Tobs couldn't take was a hostage situation. Real, fictional, it didn't matter; the second someone took a hostage, they earned Tobs' hatred. And, if it included kids, BANG, Tobs hated you more....this was beyond that now.

Moving on...heh. "I know whatcha mean. Everyone thinks they have a perfect plan, and yet, they've got a flaw...somewhere. Well, finding it could be hard. Oh, and another question: How big would said hole be? I'm guessing only a few could get out, if any." He groaned. "We may not even find the hole soon enough..."

"God dammit, you know, for someone that seems so optimistic at times, I have an incredibly pessimistic way of thinking of things..." He shook his head.

"Moving away from my pathetic way of thinking, what should we do?" He stopped dead in his tracks, and looked at the other two. Tobs cocked an eyebrow, inviting ideas and trying to come up with some for himself.

Sidney surprised even himself when he spoke up with a strength in his voice that until now, he hadn't even known that he had.

"Guys, I really think that we should get moving. This area's already been...uh, quite a battleground, by the looks of things. Odds are that people already know that people are here, and maybe they're just waiting for whatever battle happened here to be over so that they can come in and scavenge what's left."

He shook his head a little.

Odd, that I'm comparing this to a war. I guess though, in a way, it is like a war.

"My best guess is that if we head..." He trailed off as he looked at the map that he had unconsciously pulled out of his pants pocket. "...if we head to the, uh...I think that looks like a Hospital? Maybe that might be an idea. We can see if there are any supplies left, maybe find anyone who's not looking to...'play', and try and find a way out of here."

He shivered, and as he put the map back in his pocket, he began to unconsciously scratch the '8' in the 87 on his left arm again. He couldn't put his finger on it, but this area was giving him some really bad feelings.

"I just think that getting out of here's probably our best bet. This place is really giving me a bad vibe...you know what I mean? But, uh...what do you guys think? Should we head to the hospital, or maybe another place...?"

It didn't take girl number three hundred and thirty-three long to wake up after being dropped onto the island. Though, her memory was rather fuzzy and she couldn't remember much before the incident on the plane. All she could recall at the current moment was wanting to show that fucker Danya who the hell he was messing with.

"Survival of the Fittest... what the fuck?"

After Takara had awoken, she had dug through the bag which she found not far from where she had been. Spotting the handbook, she skimmed through it, growling slightly when she read about the collars. It was one thing to be a bitch, but to have a collar around her neck was like telling her she was Danya's bitch without any choice in the matter. Which, coincidently, only managed to piss her off a whole lot more.

Placing the book back into the bag, Takara had slung it over her shoulder and, keeping to the brush, made her way along the river. Her hand gripped the bag rather tightly, and if anyone made any attempt to attack her or posed a threat to her, well, she'd give them a piece of her, and not in a nice way either. >.>;

While she was walking along, she was silent, obviously, lost in her thoughts as her memory came to her. To her, it didn't matter if she got off this hell hole of an island, but if she could survive, she wouldn't complain about going back. Though, she wasn't quite 'playing' the game as of yet, she was almost certain she'd end up playing it just to keep herself from looking weak. Personally, there were a few people from her school, Barry Coleson High, that she wouldn't mind seeing dead.

Soon, three male voices drifted into her range of hearing and she stopped dead in her tracks. It was one thing to run into one person, but it was another thing to run into a group of people.

"They're probably working together... and seeing the looks of this place..." Well, needless to say, she had a bad impression of the three guys off in the distance.

Her first reaction was to find a place to hide, but there was almost nowhere to hide that wouldn't be noticed as a hiding place. Swallowing just a bit nervously, she decided to keep on walking, maybe she'd run into some luck for once, seeing as her entire life seemed to revolve around bad luck. ><

Thus, she was walking towards the three guys from ahead, putting herself into plain view of them all. She mentally cursed herself for wearing what she was, an old jacket with a black tank top, a black mini-skirt, and black, leather combat boots that stretched to just an inch above her thighs.

"To be honest, I was actually set on heading towards the warehouse," Chance remarked as he swung his arms out a bit. "I was thinking...there has to be some extra bit of supplies that could be put to use, right? Of course, that was when I suddenly bumped into you folks over here..."

He stopped short, arms in mid swing just as he noticed another figure approaching them, looking at her with only mild caution, he vaguely wondered if she was playing to kill. However, there was not a weapon in sight, and Chance doubted that she would be reckless enough to charge all three of them at once.

In any case, she didn't seem like much harm at all. Chance even vaguely recognized her from his few-numbered days at Barry Coleson.

"Oy, you there," he started, calling out in a calm, non-hostile voice. "...You're Takara, the transfer right? I don't believe we've met..." Chance vaguely wondered if this line was going to grow old anytime soon. Clearing his through a bit, he told her, for good measure, "Question for you...Not playing, are you? Don't worry, we've already decided that none of us are buying into this game. Of course...unless you're out to kill us..." He shrugged casually, making light of the matter in the hope of sounding amiable. After all, making enemies was the last thing he needed to do in a situation like this.

As he listened to Chance's reasoning, he felt that he couldn't help but agree; the warehouse was likely a better bet than the clinic was. Before he had a chance to reply, however, a fourth girl made her way out from another path and began walking towards them. Chance immediately called out to her, and Sidney couldn't help but sigh as Chance identified her as another member of Barry Coleson High School.

Again, here I am, out of the loop...

As Chance called out to the girl, Sidney decided to stay quiet. As of yet, nobody had put two and two together and figured who he really was, and for that much, he was actually kind of glad. Suppose the others figured out that he was semi-famous? Any number of crazy kids might want to be 'the one who killed Sidney Crosby'. That, of course, was not something that he wanted to have happen; dying, that is.

Death's not exactly on the top of my priority list right now. I'd much rather live. Of course, in this game, it's not really all that likely, now is it? Damn, I can't believe I've gotten to calling this a game.

As the new girl came into view, Sidney got his first really good look at her; combat boots and all. He was surprised, he had never met anyone who had dressed like that, especially not in his small-town days, before he had moved to Rimouski. As he looked at the strangely dressed girl, he removed his black baseball cap (that he had all but forgotten about at this point) and scratched the back of his head, then replacing the cap back onto his head. This girl seemed to have an intense look on her face, and admittedly, she was quite good-looking, sexy, even, in her combat boots, mini-skirt, and tank top.

Still, though, Sidney decided to say nothing, just walking alongside Toby, and letting Chance do all the talking.

Tobs had begun to think some on the question posed to the small group. Where to go? How to survive? He figured a good chance was...a place that'd been a battleground, actually."Well, staying in a place that's been a battlezone can be good, too. The others may think no one's stupid enough to hang around such an area. But, they may suspect that we think that, and check it out anyway...hm...well, we---" he stopped as he noticed Chance stop walking. He followed Chance's gaze...and saw Takara.

Fuck. Already? Don't be playing, don't be playing...! He scanned her quickly. The movements of his eyes were akin to someone checking out a hot girl, but he looked for a weapon or anything of the kind. Finding nothing, he returned his gaze to her face. Obviously, she was not one to anger. He had to force himself to ignore how she was dressed; it was ...unique. And...yeah.Remember, you're taken, god dammit. He swallowed as he nervously fingered the power switch on the drill in his hand. Much like a safety on a gun, if it was not flipped, the drill was only a nasty pointed thing. Flip the switch, and it became a very painful weapon.Of course, he looked down and visually checked it as being in the off position, before letting his right hand drop again to a resting position. He hoped the fact that he was the only one actually holding a weapon at the moment didn't give her a bad impression of him. =/

"...Takara? Name's familiar, not the face. Whatever. I guess I'll tell ya my name, too. Toby. Toby Valerik." He didn't know whether or not she was ...on their side... yet, so he withheld permission to call him 'Tobs.'>_>; Yes, it's a big thing to him. XD

"So, Takara, like Chance asked..." He began, stepping next to Chance and Sid. "Are you playing? Better yet, are you thinking of playing?" Unconciously, his grip tightened on the drill. Some of it was fear, some of it was just being anxious, and some was just to be prepared. Still, the drill was off. Even so, his voice mirrored Chance's, but with a unique, Tobs twist. Meaning it was friendly, nice, and welcoming...warm and all, but had an edge to it. He implied with his voice that, should she say yes to either, the edge in his voice would grow to something more. And it wouldn't be very verbal anymore, if you know what I mean.But it would take but a flip of a switch and the pull of a trigger to make it lethal.

He didn't realize how threatening of a position he semed to be in. Really. 3 guys (that had apparently, she may think, killed already) standing next to each other. One had a nasty looking drill. Thank god neither of the others had weapons out at the time.

[...right? Chance put the 'nades away, right? >>]

He stood there, waiting, listening intently. He wasn't the best at picking apart someone's voice for hidden meaning, but...maybe she wasn't the best at hiding it, should she lie...

When Chance called out to her, Takara stopped dead in her tracks, her facial expression like that of a deer in headlights. She hated herself for even feeling scared, but when one girl of her stature and luck was against three guys, most definately stronger than herself, she couldn't quite help it. Biting the inside of her lip, she slowly edged closer, but stayed out of their immediate range.

"You call this a fucking game?! I'm not gonna play unless I'm forced into it! And if I'm forced into it, I'm gonna shove that fucking cigar Danya had into his fucking nose!"Was she being hysterical? Yeah, just a bit. >.>;;

"Oh, yeah... I'm Takara, the transfer student." Her voice took on a bit of a defensive tone, and she crossed her arms, as if it were a touchy subject.

When Sidney removed his cap, Takara's attention was immediately on him, not sure what he was doing at first. She shifted a bit uneasily, her muscles tense, then seeing as he was only scratching the back of his head, she relaxed, quite visibly in fact.

As soon as Toby's grip tightened on the drill, Takara's eyes were on him, being the observant, and rather alert, girl that she was. Unconsciously, she shook her head slightly, licking her all of a sudden dry lips.

"Look... I'm not gonna hurt you, just... just please..." Her gaze shifted uncomfortably about the area, remembering all that she had seen. Of course, she didn't know that someone else had caused all that, but what with her current situation... she believed they had done it. "... please... don't hurt me..."

Was she frightened? Hell yeah. If anything, Toby scared her more than the other two. Of course, she could have been faking it all, but every word, and every action was geniune. If she wasn't out-numbered, she probably would have turned tail and ran, but seeing as she was, she assumed they were a lot faster than her, especially since she was in a skirt. "Damnt... please let me have some good luck..." ><

Sidney had to admit, that for someone who was dressed as 'harshly' as Takara, she certainly did sound as if she were quite frightened.

Of course, isn't that the typical 'appearances can be decieving', and 'don't judge a book by it's cover'? Of course it is. But in this place, at this time, can anyone really help doing so? You make one mistake, and just like that, you're dead.

This girl, however, didn't seem to be as threatening as she first appeared to be. IN fact, she seemed more scared than anything. Sidney couldn't blame her. He was terrified himself, as much as he tried not to show it.

Feeling the unpleasant silence that rolled throughout the area, Sidney stepped forward towards the girl, and looked her up and down, himself searching for any hidden weapons. Not seeing any (and seeing plenty; indeed), he slowly extended his hand to the girl. If there was one thing that came along with being a professional hockey player, it was definitely an ability to make someone feel important with a handshake.

Something I've had to master over the years...

"Hi...I'm Sidney. I don't, uh, I don't know you, and I don't goto school with any of you, and I guess that kind of puts me at a disadvantage, but take it from me when I say that we aren't going to hurt you. You can trust me on that, I'm NOT out to hurt anybody. You said your name was...Takara? Where're you from?"

Tobs realized what he was doing as she became more and more scared. He heard (or thought he heard) no deception in her voice, and watching her ...she seemed to slowly get more scared.At the distance between them, it's nearly impossible to tell the few degrees of difference between a pair of eyes looking at a face or a pair of eyes glued to something near your waist [hm, that's not very good wording...>>], but Tobs got the feeling his fingering of his drill wasn't helping. As it seemed that she was friendly, he brought it up to chest height, pointing sideways. He pointed very deliberately to the power switch."See, it's off. I can't do anything even if I wanted to." He moved his thumb away from the drill's switch, and held it loosely, letting it drop back to his waist area. The meaning was simple. I can turn it on quickly if I have to use it, but I won't use it unless I have to defend myself, is pretty much what it said. Purely defensive.

He wasn't going to offer his hand to shake hers (yet), merely because he always shook right handed. And he was very, very right handed. So, should she do anything to his right hand, he'd be fucked. To put it nicely.- -;

"Shove a cigar into Danya's nose? Heh, I'd shove it up his ass, and shove this drill in his ear. And THEN turn it on." He grinned a bit. Obviously, he was playing around a bit, but the way he spoke did show one thing. Er, more then one. 1) I'm perfectly friendly, 'long as you don't want to hurt ME.2) Danya's a little bitch.3) Friends?

Hmm, that's quite a bit to say in one voice. >_>; So what?!

"And, if this drill makes you uncomfortable...it's not like I can sheathe it or anything, and it's damn heavy, so I guarantee it's worse on me right now." He chuckled. Way to make a situation lighter x.x;